A rare reluctance to arise this morning, a rare wash of self-pity. Then, a deal: I'll get up for prayer but then I'll go back to bed. I'll write the eMo later.
My responses to Q's friendly questions were tense and sour. I imagine my prayer was that way, too; Oh, brother, what's wrong with her? God must have wondered.
What's wrong? Q asked.
I didn't really know. I am preparing for another trip, and have just discovered I need to leave earlier than I thought I did. That I have to reshuffle some things in my schedule. No big deal.
But then I recall that I am tense and sad every time I prepare to leave -- an issue, since I travel a lot. That I feel guilty about leaving, worried about how things will be in my absence.
But you do such a good job everywhere you go, Q said. I snarled something at him about not needing the Ten Sensible Reasons Why Everything's All Right.
You seem a little tense and sad, he said then. So much more kindly put than what he might have said, like "Will you stop being such a bitch?" Q doesn't talk like that. That's about as close to a rebuke as he gets in these situations.
And I remembered that my moods aren't just about me, even if they do spring from within me. That they affect other people. That I sound like a teenager when I behave like this. That other people annoy me when they behave like this.
I enjoy being every place I go. I like wherever I am. Things are all right at home, and I can check by phone to make sure of that. I don't have to observe a ritual of self-punishment that also involves punishing others every time I leave home on business.
When I am away, I miss him tremendously. Miss my girls, even though they haven't lived at home in years. Miss my grandchildren. Miss the cats and the plants. Love them all intensely from afar, more intensely than I do when we're together.
Whew. I'm glad that's over. I will atone for my snarling with each person caught in its crossfire. I will ask God for help in avoiding such things in future. And for forgiveness, a forgiveness I know to be mine already.
Correction: It's "embarazada." Not "embarazado." Men don't get pregnant. Deacon Hopper was the first to catch it.